Key Keeper
by Rose-de-Noire
Summary: Ay, Bootstrap tells his new friend a fairytale...  And I gived DJ some love... -
1. Prologue

**Author's note:**  
Special thanks goes to my beta: Asche aka swimmingrat

**Rating:** NC-17  
**Genre:** mystery/romantic  
**Pairing: **DJ/OC (hetero)  
**Word-count: **8232  
**Status: **complete

**KEY KEEPER  
or  
stand your ground**

**Prologue  
**

"It started as a Caribbean cruise, which she had won.  
It moved on to a fight for live and death and ended as a journey to eternity.  
It's one of the greatest love-stories. And it's a true story. Shall I move on and tell ya the whole fairytale, lassie?"  
The big man with the starfish in his face and the barnacles on his hat smiles and shoots his new friend a glance: "You'd like it, I'll promise lass!"  
The young woman just nods and turns her head to shoot a quick glance to the helm: "They seem to be happy..."  
The man at her side, they sit on a few ropes, nods: "Aye, they are! They're made for each other!"  
She chuckles: "So, then tell me their story, mate!**"**


	2. Chapter 1

**I**

Her new "life" begun in a pitch-black and stormy night in the year of 2007 when modern pirates boarded the cruise-liner on which she was only because she had won a contest.  
The cruise was an annoying thing because she was obliged to chit-chat with who knows who, which included the poor excuse of a modern captain, almost every day.

Captains-dinner…  
She escaped with a simple lie: "Gentleman, ladies," she stood up, bowed, "my headache kills me. I'm in need of fresh air…"  
There she stood at the bow, high above the dark sea and the storm wind played with her hair.  
In the same second in which she closed her eyes the first shot out of nowhere hit her, brought her to fall.  
And then the ship was taken…  
And someone tried to take her.  
The woman fell in to a burning rage, not knowing what she did and the last clear thing she could remember after getting shot a second time was a voice and her answer: "I sign to your ship, by my bloody soul I will!"

"…What a fool I am…"  
She tried to roll on her right side.  
"…to take a woman on board…"  
She tried to open her eyes.  
"…why in all hells name did she sign to the ship and not to me! I can't even kill her…"  
She chuckled even in the dizzy blur of pain, caused by two gunshots.  
"…if I'm lucky the shots are gonna kill her…"  
To whoever ship she had signed, the captain didn't agree. But, in the end, he was captain enough to respect an age-old sailor's tradition.  
She forced her eyes open by pure willpower and shot a glance to where she thought the captain would be.  
The man seemed to be towering over her, halfway hidden in the shadows.  
But what she could see was enough.  
So she whispered hoarsely: "I thought this ship was only made of sailors-yarn, nowadays, stuff out of Hollywood movies and dreams…"  
The captain shot her an awful, deadly glare and shook his head: "Na, we aren't!"  
This was the moment she knew that she had to proof herself.  
And she did. Did it by hauling up her sore body and saluting: "At your orders, Captain Jones! Your command is my wish and it's a true honor to serve on the Flying Dutchman!"  
He stared. Stared with squinted eyes at her and growled: "You're of no use to us! Not to the Dutch nor to me self!"

He could just stare at her next move. It was out of question that she did what she did.  
She had taken two gunshots not ten hours ago. So it was impossible that she even could leave the bed.  
But there she stood: chin high and eyes locked to his.  
And then she darted out of the cabin. Jones had no chance to hold her back, so he followed on her heels.  
For a single moment she stood there in the plain sun and then she started with a tour de ship he would never forget.

When they passed at the cannon-deck she locked her pain-fogged gaze on a crewmen who worked on a cannon and stated: "And this, me boy, will take ya overboard with the first shot…" she squinted here eyes to two little slits, "No, me boy," the crewmen – two heads taller then her, more reef than human – started to growl, but she rambled on, unimpressed, "this will not even shoot. The powder must be first! May I," she shot a glance at the captain who stood nearby, "Captain?"  
Jones just nodded with a slightly curious glance.  
A woman of today who knows almost every part of an ancient galleon – from the topgallant to the bilge – and even knows how to load and strap a cannon correctly?  
Not to mention that she did all this with two shots…  
Captain Davy Jones came back to the now and then when the women saluted: "Ready to obey, ready to fire, Captain Jones!"  
For one second he was really puzzled because she used another old-aged sailor's term. Then he looked the cannon over and with a nod of assent he stated: "This is – much to me dismay – the best job on the cannons I saw in fifty years," he paused, "Cannoneer!"  
The woman just saluted, grinned and – passed out.


	3. Chapter 2

**II  
**

She woke up with a jump.  
Captain Jones who stood next to her almost jumped too: "Woah, calm down an' reef your sails… cannoneer!"  
She shot him a glance then a shy smile: "I beg pardon, for my lack of regular attendance, Captain Jones…"  
He measured her with a look of interest: "Tell me where you've learned all this…" he made a gesture with his claw, "…sailor's stuff."  
She just looked at him, eyes heavy-lidded and pale like death himself before she spoke in earnest: "Can ya hold a secret, my Captain?"  
His answer was a simple nod.  
"I remember…" she stated, then she was out again.

When Captain Jones sorted his bosun's cabin, where he dropped her, he almost stumbled over Bootstrap who measured him with a worried look: "You made her cannoneer, Captain?"  
"Aye, first cannoneer," he grumbled, "an' ye'll share room, Bosun!"  
Bill "Bootstrap" Turner saluted and entered his room to take a curious look at his new _roommate_.  
What the heck… how in all world's end could the Captain bunker her in a man's room?  
Especially his – Bootstrap's – room?  
He already knew the answer: "'Cause ye never will take advantage of a wounded lassie, Bootstrap ol' scallywag…"  
So Bootstrap sat on his trunk and waited.  
While he waited he studied the lass:  
Her hair, some sort of dirty brown, hung over her shoulder in a true mess, the face and hands still bloodstained, body rather wiry and her clothes where a surprisingly good choice for sailor's-work. They looked in a way old-fashioned for these new times. She reminded him of someone. But of who?  
"Who are you lass?"  
She didn't move and so he rambled on: "Why would a today's lassie know so much about the old sailor's behavior an' the old codes? Ya even cheated the captain on your soul…"  
His warm smile changed in to a crooked one when he remembered…

"_Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare? All your sins punished? I can offer you_…_an escape._"  
_The captain of the Flying Dutchman loomed over a half dead sailor who didn't respond, when a faint voice came out of the shadows and spoke an old sailors oath, which no one of them had heard in almost a century: "I sign to your ship, by my bloody soul I will!"__  
_

There was a rule.  
A rule old like the sea itself: When a doomed man spoke this vow to your ship, you couldn't abandon him, or your own ship will drown along with the sailor; or get haunted by the sea forever.  
And after Calypso's release…  
"Did," Bootstrap leaned in, closer to her outstretched form, "ye know to which ship ye signed lass?"  
He shook his head and breathed: "To which captain's command you signed?"  
Bootstrap didn't expect any answer but the lass surprised him by whispering: "No, me friend, not back then…" she then pressed her hand to her side and her features lighted up in wonder, "…did ya patch me up, matey?"  
He shook his head and wondered himself who had bandaged her wounds when she stated: "Ya can call me Roane*, Ro for short if ye want!"  
He shot her a smile and gently gripped her now outstretched hand: "Bill Turner, bosun and your new roommate. Just call me Bootstrap, Ro!"  
"Roommates," she chuckled, "normally cannoneer's sleep by their weapons… or not?"  
Bootstrap sighed and watched her carefully as he exclaimed: "Would be no good idea to do so. First you're a lass, second you're no ordinary cannoneer," he made a little pause, so his words would set, "you're _first_ cannoneer."  
She stared at him with wide eyes: "The captain made _me_ first cannoneer?"  
Bootstrap nodded: "Aye, like he said: You're the first one in over fifty years who knows how to handle a cannon like an ol' seadog…"  
A deep sigh and she announced: "Will be a lot of work…"  
Bill couldn't hold his laughter, she was more than right in many ways.  
"Bootstrap," she looked curious, "please tell me why this beauty of a ship is not already in the locker itself like the stories tell…" and why the Captain's not dead…  
He studied her face for what seemed an eternity, then he said: "Not every fairytale is true, lass."  
Ro tilted her head to the side and nodded her understanding: "True that, Boots."

*Roane is common family-name _and_ the Irish word for a selkie, or in Scottish: selchie


	4. Chapter 3

**III  
**

"Starboard and port cannonry ready to fire!" the crewman saluted.  
Ro checked first her watch then the cannons and then she spat: "First: Not fast enough! Second:" she slapped the crewman across his fish-like face, "this will not work! How often will I have to tell you: The cannons must be strapped properly!"  
She then once more took her position on the first step of the stair to the upper deck and barked: "This time I would be pleased if you'll do it right, _landlubbers_!"

Bootstrap who watched the scene from not all too far chuckled at the mere sight of twenty "sea-monsters" who hurried to get their work done as fast they could, only by the command of a woman about two heads shorter than most of the crewmen.  
And he remembered how she had gotten them to respect her.  
Involved in this event were a handful of the crew – one of them in raping-mood – a cutlass, a ready-to-fire cannon, a match and a very pissed off Roane. Not to forget a Captain who just snorted: "This 're your men, Cannoneer, 's ye who has to show them their places…"  
The incident, a month ago, ended with three really badly injured men – number four was out in the sea – a smoking cannon and a fuming Ro who stomped away, shooting glances that even made the Captain recoil.  
Since then no one of the men tried to mess with her again.

She lay in her hammock when he saw her next this day, curled up with a book and bowl salmagundi which she literally gorged.  
He nodded and she nodded back, like always since she had pulled down the "ridiculous rag" like she had called his try to separate the room, to give her a little privacy.  
Bootstrap started a conversation – if you could call it so: "They learn?"  
"They learn…" was the gruff response around a mouth of salmagundi.  
Shortly later Ro set the empty bowl away, shot him a glance and asked: "How's your day Boots?" He tilted his head, scratched absentmindedly the sea-star plastered to his cheek and stated: "He got his moods…"  
Roane started to laugh like he had made the best joke ever, then she smiled: "He's Davy Jones, scourge of the seven seas, collector of the lost souls! Of course he has his moods, Boots!"  
She then left her hammock and announced: "I'm out… deck promenade…" talking to the Dutch, the most beautiful galleon she ever saw, the beauty who carried them all.

Captain Jones slightly wondered about how the things were going since he had to take the strange lassie on board.  
First he just thought Roane to be a good for nothing, then – the very same day – she showed him what she used to know in theory and practice, not one and a half month later she got the miracle done to get the respect of the crew. And on plus: she loved the Dutch.  
This he knew for sure.  
His blue eyes darted once again through the darkness of a moonless night, only to stop on her small form, placed at the railing, like almost every night; and he could hear her.  
Could hear the soft caring words she murmured for _his_ haunted ship.  
He turned, almost stormed in his cabin and not much later the sounds of his organ filled the night.

"Strap the cannons, secure the hatches!" Ro monitored the crew's work and when all was done she stormed on deck, only to get stopped by the harsh voice of the captain: "What's all that fuss about…" he made a questioning gesture with his claw and Roane saluted.  
"Storm ahead, Captain Jones!" she stated.  
"Aye!" he agreed, she took him once again per surprise: He felt the storm too.  
So he commanded: "Storm ahead, on your stations!"  
Once more he was impressed against his will as Ro saluted and stated: "All cannonry strapped, hatches down! May we help with the load, Captain Jones?"  
He responded with a head shake and a gesture to the rigging: "Aloft with ye, strap the topsails, Ro!"

He watched her dart away before he returned to his duties.  
He had found once again a usable sailor. Not so common in this century…


	5. Chapter 4

**IV  
**

Somehow Jones and Bootstrap ended up at the helm together, the wind tore at the sails, the waves washed over the deck and…

Where the heck was Bootstrap?  
Roane scanned the captain's bridge over and over but there…  
No time to think!  
Ro acted instinctively as she grappled a hold of the helm – because she had stood next to the both men – her small hands on the captains "hands", as she pulled simultaneously with Jones to turn the wheel, accompanied by an almost inaudible curse: "Come on me beauty, do it for yer captain…"

Jones stared at Roane as their hands came into contact and for the length of a second he almost recoiled, but the Dutch… The Dutch needed him.  
A whisper caught his attention and he locked his eyes on Ro.  
Roane who whispered a sailor's-plea: "Catch the wind, ride the waves, tame the storm, me beauty. Fly over the sea, for yer captains love…" and then his haunted ship responded to the plea with a soft, tingling vibration.  
_Who are you Ro?__  
_

Bootstrap came back to his feet, scrambled upwards and froze midway to the helm.  
What in all heaven's and hell's name was going on over-there?  
Roane and the Captain, eyes locked, hand on hand, one long tentacle-finger curled around Ro's wrist and the Helm, whispering in unison what should be forgotten in this new time.  
Bootstrap could hear them even over the howling wind.  
And he could feel and see the Flying Dutchman react.  
There was a hum, coming from the very core of the ship and then the Dutch started to glow in a faint, green shimmer.  
"What…" he stumbled closer to the both of them, could see now that they steered just on instinct because their eyes where halfway closed and locked together, but the Dutch found her way through the thunderous sea as if there were only the calm waters of a sunshiny day.

As time passed, so did the storm and as the wind calmed down to a soft breeze and the heavy rain to a drizzle, the pair at the helm comes back to consciousness, they both stopped in unison with the plea and Roane tried to take a step backwards.

Ro stepped backwards and – Jones still held her by her wrist.  
Startled her green eyes darted back to his blue ones and her voice almost faded as she spoke: "I beg yer pardon, Captain Jones, Sir! I didn't obey your orders…"  
He made a popping sound and shook his head: "There were no orders given…" he untangled his tentacle from her wrist and she shivered at the feeling when the little suckers detached from her skin.  
_Kisses_, she thought, _soft, little kisses_.  
Then the contact between them was gone and Ro, almost carefully, retired her hand: "Orders," she looked questioningly at him, "Captain Sir?"

He stared at her.  
There was no fear – never had been – in her eyes. Only respect and – could it be? – appreciation.

When he spoke next his voice was almost soft: "'need to know a few things… we'll talk later, lassie. For now: Thanks for help at the helm an' back t' yer duties!"  
She saluted and stormed away, down under deck, to check on her men and the cannonry.

It was late night when Bootstrap came to their cabin and he was surprised by the oil-lamp still burning and Ro who stared absentmindedly in to the mirror-like windows, softly tracing her fingers over chain-like bruises around her wrist.  
Worried Bootstrap asked: "Does it hurt?"  
Roane shook her head and chuckled: "Nearly like love-bites…"  
"Love-bites? Crazy lass ye. He's Davy Jones!"  
"He thanked me for me help…" and with this she climbed in her hammock, "…night, Boots!"  
Bootstrap shook his head and murmured: "Yer course leads ye in dangerous and dark waters, Ro..."  
"Then it's time to light me ship's lantern. _Night_ Boots."  
"Night, Ro…"


	6. Chapter 5

**V  
**

Captain Jones shot a glance over to his first cannoneer who stood nearby at the railing gazing into the blue Caribbean Sea, apparently brooding.  
"On the lookout for something, lass?"  
Roane didn't even flinch as Jones all but hissed in her ear and answered: "Fishes, Captain. They're just handsome…"  
Since when where fishes _handsome_?  
"Want to see more fishes, Ro?"  
"If this doesn't mean you'll throw me overboard, Captain Jones…" she smiled.  
"Not precisely…" and he walked back to the helm, shooed Bootstrap away and shouted a command:  
"Down!"

Roane clutched the railing, her breath hitched for one single moment when they dived and then her trust in the Flying Dutchman was back again and she deeply inhaled.  
The salty taste you can feel on your tongue when you are near the sea filled her lungs with literally breathtaking intensity, but – she could breath.  
And, she was absolutely delighted.

Jones and Bootstrap watched her take another deep breath and both men smiled – one of them glad, the other one impressed – when Ro sighed: "Why had I to wait three months for this?"  
_Cause ye had to see the whole thing, Ro.__  
_Aloud Captain Jones said: "Cause I just take below who boarded a ship under me command!" he then pointed with his claw on a shoal of fish who swam nearby: "Enough fishes for ye, Ro?"  
She practically beamed at him: "Never, me Captain!"

Bootstrap wondered how she could get away with this.  
Surely not just because she was a woman and the Captain a gentleman. Not at all, he was still Davy Jones, devil of the sea, hater of all women.  
But there always was this deep respect between Roane and the Captain which has grown since her first day aboard.  
They didn't talk much, Jones and her, but if they did…  
Like at the moment, there always seemed to be an undertone of absolute understanding.  
So he just stood at the railing and observed them both, listening to their conversation.

"How d'you steer your beauty up an' down, Captain Jones?"  
The captain glanced at Roane and explained: "'s like the sailor's-plea…"  
Ro mused a moment over this then nodded: "Just asking her to do so?"  
Jones nodded and took a step to the side, doing an inviting gesture to the wheel, curios how far his haunted ship would react and listen to Roane.  
Ro took the one step missing and closed the gap between her and the helm, laid her hands gently on the smooth wood and whispered in a caressing tone: "Well me beauty, will ye do me a favor even I'm not your captain?"  
Jones watched her with a strange, curious glint in his blue eyes and when the Dutch beneath their feet begun to quaver, his eyes immediately felt shut and he commanded: "Onward me lassies…"  
"Come on me beauty, for yer captain's love: Onward!" Ro's voice was no more than a whisper…

As Bootstrap could hear Ro repeating the order in her own way, he almost hadn't enough time to take a hold as the Flying Dutchman _jumped_ forward.  
He blinked in surprise. No one, except the captain, since Maccus had left, could steer the Dutch below surface. Not even himself who stayed on his own wish and free will after his hundred years where over.  
Something about Roane had to be _absolutely_ special…  
Special enough to make Davy Jones act against his normal behavior.

The Flying Dutchman made her way by floating in mid-water, "flying" over some reefs and rocks, once diving down headlong in a deep-sea ditch and then back to the surface with the main-sky-sail above the sea; and all the while Ro and Jones grinned like two mad men.  
Not only Bootstrap's jaw dropped as the captain stepped up behind Roane and reached for the wheel too, but only the star-faced man could hear what he said: "Let's have some _real_ fun lassie…"  
And then the wild ride begun.  
Up to the surface, back down to the very bottom of a ditch and – fast like hell – in a corkscrew back up.  
The Dutch dashed out of the water, floated one or two seconds midair and fell back in to the sea…

"Ye really enjoyed this," Bootstrap measured Ro from head to toe while they sat on her trunks, "didn't ye Ro?"  
The lass smiled dreamy at him: "Was some of the best things I ever did in my life…"  
"What was the best?"  
"Sex!" she stated with a grin.  
Bootstrap almost choked.


	7. Chapter 6

**VI  
**

Roane sat astride on one of the triple guns plucking off barnacles and muttered absentmindedly: "Australian barnacle, acorn barnacle, perforated barnacle…" tapping at a barnacle which had settled on her cutlass since yesterday after the dive she smiled, "captain's barnacle…"  
Some crewmen nearby giggled and where rewarded with a deep growl and a deadly look from Ro: "Dutchman-crewmen don't giggle!"  
They stared one moment at each other and the next all of them burst in to laughter.  
"Hell…" Buckle-head snorted, "Ro you're probably the best thing the captain ever pulled from the sea!"  
Roane giggled and with a theatrical blink she cooed: "Ay, don't flatter me… I'm just a shy little lady!"  
And again they all burst in to laughter.

The day had passed like many others on the Flying Dutchman before, work, work and then again: work.  
Roane felt like she had done nothing other than work since she was aboard.  
Well, there were some rounds of Liar's dice she probably won – the crew wager years, Ro kisses, and she never had to kiss someone – the chit-chat with Bootstrap, he always had a good story to tell; and her daily deck-promenades around sunset.  
The promenades… For Roane, they where the best part of the day.  
Just to stroll all alone on deck, talking to the haunted galleon itself and practically basking in the fond response, a tingling sensation under her fingertips, or even a soft hum she could feel deep in her bones.  
Some nights she would sit on a bitt and listen to the Captain's furious play.  
In those nights she wondered if the crew also remarked that the music had somehow changed.

This evening she was late with dinner – if ye' could call a cold bowl of stew dinner – and so it was already night when she climbed on deck.  
Ro shot a quick glance up to the full moon, smiled, brushed a gentle hand against the railing and whispered: "Three months, two days and seventeen hours… an' I'm still glad to be here…" plucking, like she often did, barnacles from the green tinted wood…  
"If ye keep on…" a voice rumbled, "when yer hundred years are over, there will be no barnacles left…"  
Ro turned around and smiled: "Good evening Captain… eternity wouldn't be long enough…" she then tilted her head, listening to a faint melody which drifted over the sea, "Out there," she nodded to south, "'s a cruiser…"  
"Want to watch?"  
"Would be a pleasure, me Captain."

They stood side by side in utter silence, both of them one hand on the helm and guiding the Dutch per pure willpower in the cover of a fog bank.  
Then the captain broke the silence by asking: "What did ye mean when you said ye'd remember, Roane?"  
She answered unhesitatingly and with a sad smile: "I remember my previous lifes…" when Jones said nothing she continued, "I remember _you_."  
He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. He didn't even want to think of… "Did I sign ye?"  
Ro turned her head, locked her eyes on his and whispered: "You didn't want me, me Captain…" she then turned back to face the open water, "Ship ahead, Captain."

_You didn't want me…__  
_The words echoed in Jones' head when he saw her let go of the wheel and walking to the railing clutching hard on it, as if the lass needed something to hold on.  
It was so damn hard to appear cold like the sea since the dead man's chest was aboard the Dutch and that traitorous heart so near.

When Ro turned to face the captain once more she saw him absentmindedly stare at her and smiled sadly: "Hadn't the time to proof meself back then… if I had had," she shrugged and her smile lightened, "who knows, you would've taken me right then 'n there…"  
Davy Jones snapped back to reality and – tore his eyes off her. What a choice of words!

And then, once again, head tilted, hips swaying, heavy lidded eyes on him, a dreamy smile on her lips Ro listened to the music which floated over the water.  
Jones gazed at her. Did the lass know, how…  
"Dance?"  
The captains eyes darted at her extended hand, then back to her eyes and under their feet the Flying Dutchman begun to hum, sonorous and deep.


	8. Chapter 7

**VII****  
**

Roane smiled up at him, followed his lead in to another alluring turn and whispered: "Like dancing with the most seducing devil itself…"  
Jones smirked, a tentacle from his beard ghosting over her shoulder up to her delicate neck: "I don't seduce ye…" and another slow turn.  
"_You_ don't seduce _me_..." Ro leaned in, breathing on another tentacle, "Captain Davy Jones."

Bootstrap stumbled out of the cabin, something was – wrong?  
The Flying Dutchman hummed loud enough to woke him and there was this strange tingling sensation and – _piano_-music?  
They hadn't any piano aboard…  
What the hell was going on here?  
And where was Ro?  
He sneaked soundlessly around a corner and stopped dead in his tracks as he could see the bridge.  
_This_ was not was he had expected.  
He had possibly expected to find Ro on her knees, bleeding to death, whipped or worse…  
But _never_ to see _her_ pressing her lean form against the captain's who was – literally – with his back to the wall, clutching with his claw at the railing, all his tentacles somehow on Roane and they where kissing like there was no tomorrow.  
He could see them part in need of air, could hear the captain's hoarse voice as the man rasped: "I'd not seduce ye… uh…"  
Ro just leaned in once again and whispered: "No, _ye_ don't seduce _me_, me Captain…" and their lips met once more in a desperate kiss.  
Bootstrap retired and settled himself midway on the stair to the hold where the other crewmen slept…  
Someone had to play the watchdog after all, these two wouldn't be pleased by audience.

Roane's fingers entangled with the captains tentacles, played along and stopped somewhere behind his neck: "Hmm," a soft kiss on his lips, "smooth…" they had somehow slowed down from the feverish rush, to a sweet discovery.  
"Ye shouldn't…"  
Ro cut him off with a deep kiss.  
When she drew back she licked her lips and smiled coyly: "'like your tobacco, me Captain…"  
Jones just made a plopping noise and pulled her closer, his claw against her back, his mouth on hers, his right, tentacled hand guiding her deeper into the kiss.  
When he swirled them around, lifting Ro from the planks, a low thud reverberated through the Flying Dutchman.  
And as Davy pressed her up against the railing and her legs slung around his waist another deep thud echoed.

Bootstrap on his guard quizzically listened, what was that again?  
What was the Dutchman up to now?  
Vibrating, humming, glowing and now – thuds?  
And then, after a few constant thuds more he got it:  
Heartbeat.  
A heartbeat strong and fierce.

Ro's breath hitched and her fingers clutched desperately on to Davy's shoulders when she arched her back only to get closer, exposing her throat to his tentacles.  
Jones explored the eager body in his arms, nipped at the velvety skin and a deep growl escaped him as Roane grounded her hips against his.  
And then she moaned his name, dark and thick with desire.  
He felt like someone had thrown him over board and – pulled back.

On his watch Bootstrap startled when the steady thuds staggered and then stopped.  
This time he was absolutely sure that this all would take a bad turn.  
He had to take a look, he owed it Roane. In their friendship's name.  
He was just about to stand up when the thuds came back, almost frenetically.  
Bill sat down once again and grinned in to the darkness: "Crazy lass, ye, Ro!"

Ro blinked with fogged eyes at her captain as he pulled back and a confused "Davy?" left her mouth.  
His voice was barely about a ragged whisper when he spoke: "'wouldn't work out…"  
Roane curved her lips in to a gently smile and wiggled her hips playfully against a certain spot: "I'm pretty sure it will…"  
"Ye don't understand…" he leaned his forehead against hers, tentacles caressing her cheeks sadly, "I'm half a squid…"  
Roane somehow caught up to his mind and whispered affectionately, halfway joking: "Jus' give me a hint, if ye shed a tentacle or ye're up to ink at me, so I'll be prepared…" one of her hands glided down, between their bodies, softly teasing and followed by a deep kiss she finished: "If it's nothing of that, I _am_ already prepared…"

Jones growled, low and deep before he captured her sweet lips with ravish hunger.  
Ro once again slung her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and drowned in the kiss only to find herself seeping through the planks and lowered to a bed.  
When she opened her eyes to face him Davy grinned: "I don't shed any tentacles nor 'd I ink…" he leaned in to brush a soft kiss to her temple, "…but I'll probably gonna hurt ye with me hard parts…"  
Roane just stretched her hands out to shove his coat down, brushing her fingertips over his claw: "Then hurt me, _my_ Captain…" and with this she arched her back once more, fumbling at his belt.


	9. Chapter 8

**VIII  
**

Eyes burning full with light, she gazed down at him, a loving smile played along her lips while her fingertips trailed the long jagged scar on his sea-colored chest and when Jones shivered Ro bent down to set a slow trail of butterfly kisses along it.  
Davy made a strangled sound, pulled her head up to kiss her, but Ro had other things in mind and so her tongue licked at one of his tentacles and all he could do was to whimper when she closed her hot mouth around it.

The Flying Dutchman swayed once again like they were at heavy seas and Bootstrap took a hold on the banister.  
What the heck did the lass do with the captain?  
As the ship took another jolt, one of the crewmen stumbled out of the cannon-deck and asked worriedly, as he saw his bosun on the stairs: "Is there a storm? There's no wind nor waves to be heard, but we're on heavy seas?"  
Bootstrap just commanded with a frown: "Go back and stay put, Captain's order!"  
When the man was gone he broke in to laughter, snorted: "Hell yes! We're indeed on heavy sea… at least Ro is!"

"Ye made me ship glow…" Jones smiled and stroked her cheek with one of his tentacles.  
"Yes me Captain," Roane snuggled closer, using his left upper arm as a pillow, "and _we_ made the Dutch jump an bump…" and she slung her leg over his crab-leg and they both chuckled.  
After a long while Davy asked: "And now, what shall we do?"  
Ro tickled a cheeky tentacle who wiggled closer: "Nothing changes…" she placed a kiss upon the spot where his nose should be, "You're Captain, I' m subordinate. And as I said at me first day aboard: Your command is my wish and I obey without protest."  
Jones eyes narrowed and he tried to say something just to get interrupted by a soft kiss.  
Roane smiled and whispered: "At least if I'm on duty me Captain!"  
Jones sounded almost surprised: "You'll still want to stay aboard?"  
"I've already signed for one-hundred years…" she smiled, "…so you're stuck with me, Davy!"  
"Ye didn't sign to me. Ye signed to the Dutch!"  
"Does it really matter to who I made me promise, the Captain or the ship, when their very souls are bounded together, me _Loves_?"  
At this very moment the Dutch gave a loud hum and a loud thud vibrated through the galleon, when Davy Jones rolled on top from Ro to embrace her.

It was early dawn as Roane carefully sneaked in to her cabin and – was greeted by a smug smiling Bootstrap sitting atop his trunk: "Ye screwed the captain."  
Ro blushed furiously but she shot back: "You'd remember when I said sex was the best thing I ever did?"  
She settled herself on her own trunk and moved on: "I was definitively wrong…"  
Bill cut her off: "Aye, hold it lass, ' don't wanna know!"  
They sat for a long moment in silence, Bootstrap grinning smugly, observing his roommate and Roane munching on a hard tack with a smile dancing in her green eyes.  
Then Bill broke the silence and pointed at her wrist: "Ye should roll down yer sleeves… and roll up yer collar, by the way…"  
Ro beamed at him by rolling her sleeves down: "Not _like_ love-bites… they are…"  
"I said, I don't wanna know any of this, Ro!"


	10. Chapter 9

**IX  
**

"Morning me Captain…" a gently voice stated and some of his tentacles shivered under surprisingly soft fingertips.  
Jones grunted and tried to escape the tickling sensation when the fingertips ghosted over his collarbones and down his side, by curling up in to a tight ball – certainly not loosening his grip around the warm body in his arms and so the voice returned: "Thanks for crushing me, Davy…" accompanied by a giggle.  
He just grunted once more, loosened his grip an inch only to sling one or two tentacles from his beard around Ro's wrist.  
Roane giggled once more and ceased her efforts to wake him up and make him let go and cuddled closer with the words: "So I'll be late for duty, me Captain…"  
"Ye'r off duty for the mornin' lass… uh…" he managed to grunt as he could feel her pressing a soft kiss to one of his bigger tentacles and snuggling deeper in his embrace.

The captain followed Roane with his eyes when she climbed in to the crow's-nest.  
They had stay in bed until noon, just because Davy had _needed_ the proof she was still alive and with him.  
This all had worked out much better than any of them had thought. Especially as _Davy Jones_ had thought.  
No one of the crew dared to say something about their relationship and so Roane's suggestion from their first night, three months ago, – at day and in duty, they where nothing more than captain and cannoneer – had worked well.  
Well, it had _had_ worked well up to yesterday.  
His minds trailed off, back to the day before.  
They had chased down an almost-wreck in the middle of a storm and Roane and her men did an extraordinary good job when they where commanded to open the fire, to transform it in to a true wreck, but then they boarded the wreck…

_Ro stood on Bootstrap's right side where her place as first cannoneer was while boarding, cutlass and pistol in hands, ready to kill everyone who denied the offer which Captain Jones was giving.__  
This was not the first boarding Ro was in, but the first in the middle of a roaring hurricane.__  
But the lass stood fierce and proud against waves and wind.__  
But then… Ay, then – Davy could see it from the corner of his eye and he could feel _her_ presence – something was slung around Roane's ankle and the next second she was gone.__  
And the man in his claw, which he clenched in shock, too.__  
"RO!" he roared over the storm wind at the same time with his Bosun and both of them jumped forward, staring into the dark and foaming water.__  
"Kill them!" Jones ordered and dived in to the sea, after Ro.__  
He needed more than ten minutes to find her… she must have been dead.__  
There in the open sea the magic of the Dutch wouldn't work and Ro hadn't changed much up to now…__  
He cursed the sea, Calypso and himself but he brought her back aboard of the Flying Dutchman.__  
Davy Jones brushed the soaked red tinged hair out of Roane's face only to be rewarded with a flabbergasted look from hooded green eyes and a barely audible, hoarse whisper: " 'got gills…"__  
This was the moment where Captain Davy Jones didn't care that they were still on the foredeck, crowded by half of the crew, he just slung his arms around the violently shaking __woman, scooped her up and stormed in his cabin where he putted her in his bed – with him.__  
_

Roane laid on her stomach, gazing down at the captain's-bridge examining the captain.  
_Her_ Captain.  
Last night they spoiled their "little secret"…  
At least it was her fault.  
But the rope around her ankle wouldn't get cut off. It was almost like _someone_ had fixed it with a sailor's knot. Also, Ro had lost her cutlass while drowning and something – _someone_ – had knocked her knife out of her hand when she worked on the rope.  
And then, when her lungs were about to give up she remarked something special: She could breath.  
But none the less, she was drowning, strapped to something heavy – _must be like Boots had felt_ – and then Davy was there and he cut the rope of with his claw.  
Saved her. Brought her back on the Dutch, warmed her up in his very own bed, kissed her when she was afraid he would be upset for the problems she was causing and for having – gills.  
And not only gills, there right over her breasts covering her collarbones, there was a heart-shaped patch of pearly, ruby scales.  
Roane swallowed a little moan at the mere thought of how Davy had examined it with lips and tentacles after he had discovered it.

Captain Jones lifted his gaze because someone _special_ stared at him with burning intensity and when his eyes met Ro's flaming green eyes from above, he gulped hard and hoped she would cease her staring soon, otherwise he would…  
And then was there a strange turn in the wind, the weather changed and from one moment to the other the Dutch was in the middle of a hurricane.


	11. Chapter 10

**X  
**

Roane slid down the rigging and landed midships on the deck, already barking orders to her men: "All hatches down! Cannons in and save the hold!" and stormed below deck while Captain Jones shouted his own commandos to the main crew.  
Something was terribly wrong with this hurricane. Ro felt it deep in her bones.  
Magic, witchcraft, voodoo, hot and violent.  
Strong enough to frighten the Flying Dutchman.  
_As if the sea itself was on warpath.  
_And with this thought something in Roane's mind felt in to place and she hissed one single word: "_Calypso._"

Buckle-head saw his superior turn pale as a sheet, a terrible look of mortal fear in her eyes and froze in place, rope still in hands.  
This was really beyond her normal behavior and so he made a step over to Roane, touched her shoulder and gave her a squeeze: "Hey…" she didn't move, so he shook her worriedly, "Roane!" nothing.  
Buckle-head tried again: "Lass I gonna kill the captain if ye don't move!"  
This probably would be impossible, but it seemed to work on Ro, because she blinked as if in slow-motion at him.  
And then she went even paler, a strangled whisper on her lips: "Davy…"  
"Calm down, no one can…"  
"_She_ can!" with this Roane dropped the rope, turned on heels and darted of to the upper-deck.

Roane practically bolted out of the hatch, eyes wide and at the edge of panic.  
It took her more than two precious seconds to spot Davy on the windswept over-washed deck, but once when she had spotted him she was at his side immediately.  
Jones shot her an agonized glance: "Leave! – uh – Ye're in danger… she…"  
Ro violently shook her head: "Never! I stay!"  
The captain could clearly see the fear in Ro's eyes, but he hadn't even the time to say anything…

Bootstrap worked on a sail when Roane ran past him and he turned after her because she had never before looked so freaked out.  
What the heck…  
And then the storm was over.  
Not gone. Just over; like someone would blown out a candle.  
And a shady figure appeared at the Dutch's bow.  
He made an unconscious step backwards as the figure took form.  
This was a nightmare, _hopefully_ this was a nightmare.  
"Calypso…" the captain and Ro whispered in unison.  
And then the goddess spoke: "Ya stole me man."  
Everyone on deck stared at Calypso.

Everyone except the captain.  
Davy Jones just stared at Roane.  
And he could exactly tell when Ro took the decision to die head high for the love he had doubted to the very moment.  
And – he couldn't move for dear life.

Roane squared her shoulders and made a fierce step, chin high, up to Calypso: "I stole no one an' nothing, dear Goddess," where the hell she took her boldness from, "I just offered meself to the man I love."  
Calypso tilted her head and frowned, but said nothing.  
So Roane went on: "If the stories tell only half the truth, it was you, my most honored Goddess who let him down…"  
This time she was interrupted by the goddess: "You got one chance to live: Give him up and leave."  
Ro just lifted her chin a little higher and spoke, barely above a whisper: " 'don't fear death…" louder she stated: "I stand my ground."  
Finally Davy found his ability to move, bolted to Ro's side and…  
"Move away from her or ye'll die with her," Calypso paused, "Davy Jones!"

When the captain spoke his voice was dark and steady: "I stand me ground…" and he extended one of his long tentacles, curled around something, holding Ro's eyes with his when she turned to face him, "… me heart is yours."  
The Dutch took a low sway and a loud thud echoed over the deck as Ro almost ceremonially stretched her hand out to take what Davy her offered.  
The key to the dead man's chest. 


	12. Chapter 11

**XI  
**

Bootstrap stood next to the pair on the foredeck and so he could hear the whispered words they spoke as they hold the key together. It almost seemed to him that Ro and the Captain had forgotten about Calypso standing there.  
They only had eyes for each other.  
And then he understood the meaning of this as Roane, a gentle smile on her face, whispered: "I'll find thee. I'll remember, jus' wait me luv…"  
Jones answered calm: " 'd' not fear death, ye're the key keeper, ye'll find me as always, luv."  
They bid a last farewell.

Calypso watched the scene displaying before her with critical eyes, then she took a step, closed the distance, stood in front of the pair and – with a broad smile she stated: "Well, well, well me hearties..."  
It was Ro who answered, voice somehow on edge: "Ay, Calypso, Goddess of the sea…"  
The Goddess interrupted her smiling broadly, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder – Ro looked like she would die instantly: "You two passed me little test…"  
Roane and Jones stared at Calypso in utter disbelief.  
"…so I'll leave ye now alone…" the Goddess smile turned to a sad one, "…jus' don't make the same mistake I made, Roane!" and with this she faded into sea spray.  
Roane's eyes went wide when de goddess disappeared, but she answered sincerely: "I won't. It needed seven and a half lifes to gain…" her voice faded when Davy's tentacled hold around her wrist fastened and she locked her eyes once again on to his, "I'll sign to ye me love and the Dutch forever…"

Bootstrap the only one near enough to overhear the whole conversation breathed a sigh of relief as Calypso was gone, only to get shocked by Ro once more when the lass spoke, voice clear and strong, another almost forgotten oath, even she had revised it a little: "I'll sign to ye me love and the Flying Dutchman forever…" at this point she wrapped the key around her neck and smiling at Captain Davy Jones she ended the vow: "Bound together, haunted forever, out in to the sea we will be. A damned ship and a cursed man, they're me destiny."  
The Dutch hummed louder than ever, the green glow was almost blinding and the heartbeat increased in frenzy.  
Bill grinned when the captain pulled Ro into a bone-crushing hug and both of them practically seeped through the deck.  
And Boots jumped literally when Calypso's voice whispered in to his ear: "No one but them and the storyteller will remember…"


	13. Epilog

**EPILOG  
**

Bootstrap closes his story with the words: "And only they remembered the episode with Calypso…"  
The lass on the rope-pile to his feet smiles up at him: "And _you_ do _storyteller_!"  
He gives a nod and gazes back to the helm of the Dutchman where the captain and Ro stand, Roane at the wheel, Davy behind her. The sun playing over the key, bed on a heart-shaped patch of pearly, ruby scales.  
Bootstrap tears his eyes off them and looks back at the girl he had tell their story: "And that's why we call her Keeper!"  
The young lassie smiles up at him and asks: "May I write it down as a fairytale, Boots me hearty?"  
He chuckles and answers: "Just make sure to tell it as a _fairytale_Rose…"

**THE END  
**and the beginnin'

**Roses small talk:  
**Many thanks to all my reviers!  
Free hugs, rum and some hard tacks for every one!


End file.
